


Toe the Line

by Humanitys_Saltiest



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 1880s ish, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternative Universe - 1880s, Hate to Love, Homophobia, M/M, One sided Levi/Furlan Church, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-04-30 13:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14497779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humanitys_Saltiest/pseuds/Humanitys_Saltiest
Summary: At the end of the 19th century, before ballet was accepted and adored by the rich and prosperous, it was seen as a filthy line of work akin to prostitution. To make a living, ballerinas would attract the attention of well off business men who would fund their performances and provide financial aid to the dancers outside of their work, often in return for various sexual favours.Being the only male ballet dancer in the troupe was indeed a challenge, but it wasn't the worst part, nor was the constant struggle for enough money. The only thing Levi hated more, were the creeps to funded each project. But one day he meets a handsome business man who is unlike any of the other patrons who ends up turning his whole world upside down.





	Toe the Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to finally post this, because what better thing to do when two other fics are waiting to be finished to instead begin a whole new one?  
> For the purpose of story spoilers, warnings for sensitive content will be at the beginning of each chapter  
> The inspiration for this story actually came from the artist Edgar Degas and his paintings of ballet dancers.  
> Disclaimer: I am not a historian, some parts of the story may be historically inaccurate. I've tried to keep it as close to real times (events and technology) as possible, although some were changed for the plot's advancement, others I may have just gotten wrong.  
> Second Disclaimer: I am also not a ballet dancer, my knowledge of it is limited to the two months I had when I was a wee bab. I've tried my best doing research on it, but there may still be some mistakes.  
> I do not mean to offend anyone with my ignorance.  
> If you see an issue, feel free to let me know in the comments below so I can correct it.  
> Check out my tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/humanitys-saltiest)  
> I hope you enjoy!

Steady feet.

Straight posture.

Graceful technique.

And of course, beauty in and out of motion.

These were the requirements for anyone to become a successful dancer. Well, as successful as a ballet dancer could be in 1885.

As a boy, Levi had seen paintings and sketches of ballerinas where they seemed to float like mist over a still lake. He remembered the awe, the childlike wonder as he gazed up at these graceful figures, completely unphased with the fact that all of the dancers were always women. How he longed to be up on the stage, bathed in the bright lights, nearly deafened by the cheers and applause. However, that dream quickly faded once he had finally reached his goal of joining a ballet company. Up close, he could see past the costumes and the heavy makeup, and what he saw wasn't pretty. Not only was the pay terrible, but the makeup made his skin itch and burn, and the training was harder on his body than he could have ever imagined. And to make things even worse, apparently male ballet dancers were something of a taboo. He may as well be a rent boy at a Molly house, at least the pay would be better.

Levi could have given up a long time ago, sometimes he wished he had. But whenever he thought about quitting, he always remembered his mother, and how hard she worked to save up for his lessons. He couldn't just throw that away. His struggle didn't matter, as long as he made his mother proud, it was worth it.

His mother was unsurprisingly upset when Levi told her he was leaving for London, but in the end she wished him well and made him promise to send her a letter every month and visit her on his birthday.

Whenever Levi was asked about work by his mother, he always told her the good things. He didn't want to make her worry, she did enough of that already. Luckily it wasn't hard to appear to be a successful dancer, he definitely had the skill, and the looks. Levi was slim but muscular, with the core strength of an iron pillar. His features were smooth and pointed, black hair matching the murky grey of his eyes that, when paired with his pale skin, gave him a mysterious appearance that many sought after. Often had his fellow dancers come up to him asking to know his 'skin-care secret', some even thought he had consumption because of the pallor to his porcelain skin. It certainly annoyed Levi to have absolutely no respect from the other dancers, only to have them banging the door of his dressing room down to ask about his skin hygiene secrets. Each time someone asked he just told them he bathed almost every day and then flatly told them to get lost.

* * *

 

The instructor had been pushing Levi particularly hard that day, and it had quickly soured his mood. His instructor was a small withering man whose head was sparsely decorated with patches of long grey fluff and a heavy cane practically attached to one hand, the other usually containing a flask or a cigar, sometimes even both at once. The old man had the temper of a child and the depravity common among the men of the upper classes, which made him even more despicable to Levi.

Despite the large sum of money the instructor owned, he made sure to give the dancers, who did all the hard work, the lowest amount of money he could so he could spend the rest on gambling, booze, and cheap cigars. He was a nasty old man who picked on all the dancers, especially Levi, who was lower than scum in the instructor's eyes.

Levi sat down with a heavy sigh, lungs burning with exhaustion as the hard surface of the wooden bench did little to comfort him. With a wince, he eased his feet out of the stiff ballet flats, letting out a breath of relief at the feeling of his feet pressing flat against the cool floor. It felt heavenly to let his feet relax out of the pointed position they were required to be in most of the time. However, his peace was quickly cut short by the instructor shouting for him, only calling him by his last name, as usual, as he hollered for him to get back out on stage to practice his grand jeté. It was a shameless excuse to cut his break short, as that was one of his best moves. Levi hissed a curse under his breath as he forced his feet back into the shoes and quickly tied the ribbons up with practiced ease. Adjusting his tunic, he tugged the silky fabric away from where it had been sticking to his skin with sweat, a scowl spreading across his face.

"Disgusting." He grumbled under his breath, tugging the tie out of his hair to redo the bun. Having long hair was a major hassle, but the instructor insisted that everyone wear their hair in a bun, which meant Levi had to grow it out to do so, much to his own displeasure. Individuality was loathed by the instructor, so it was his goal to make everyone look exactly the same, the one exception being Levi, who stuck out like a rusty nail, unpleasant and unwanted.

Stepping back on stage, he blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust the the bright lights. They seemed a lot brighter than they usually were for rehearsal. Another attempt by the instructor to throw him off. Ever since he replaced the original instructor, he worked every day to make Levi's job a living hell. Any wrong step and Levi would be out of work. Luckily, he had always been a very private person, keeping his personal and professional life strictly separate. As long as he kept things the way they were, things would be fine.

Once his eyes finally adjusted to the lights, they scanned the sparse audience, seeing the group of shadowy men in fancy suits sitting in the back.

 _Patrons_.

Even saying the word in his head made Levi shudder. It was so expensive to pay for the building and the set pieces on top of the dancers’ costumes with such a small amounts of funds that after paying off the expenses, there was little money left for the dancers. To be able to earn an amount of money one would need to survive, most dancers would get at least one patron, which were wealthy business-men with lots of time and money on their hands. They would make regular 'donations' to the dance company, in return for whatever favours they desired from their dancers.

Being a man made him a smaller target to these men, and he was able to avoid being constantly approached with propositions. However there were still some who tried, and he always turned them away, much to the instructors anger. While his boss was well aware of the things the dancers typically had to do in return for money, he would still encourage each dancer to have at least one, but preferably more patrons. The instructor had frequently pestered Levi into seeking a patron, most likely as an excuse to fire him if he found out of any 'dubious’ behaviour with a patron.

Although Levi struggled to make enough money to support himself, he refused to get a patron. He didn't want to get mixed up with the law. The only reason he was still part of the company was because of his skills. Those who could get past the fact he was a male ballet dancer were steady admirers of how he drifted across the stage like smoke, even during rehearsals.

While Levi was glad for the praise that kept him in his job, the attention was something he could definitely do without. At almost every show he performed at, women would come to him afterwards asking to spend the night with him. Every time he turned them down with a carefully woven lie of a pledged sweetheart waiting for him back home. Being twenty one years old and unmarried or without a sweetheart was suspicious for a man.

Once again, the rehearsal played out to be exactly the same as the others. The rest of the dancers would do five minutes of practice for every ten minutes of Levi's practice. While Levi was content to remind everyone of his skill, it didn't take long for the old blisters on his heels and toes to open up in his cheap shoes. One downside to turning down patrons was that he couldn't afford to replace things, like his shoes. He had been using them for almost three years, with the help of his mediocre sewing skills, they were just barely holding together. Each time he would do a jump he silently prayed to whatever being was out there that his shoes wouldn't completely fall apart when he landed. Luckily, he had not had a disaster that bad ~~yet~~. Plus, he always kept a sewing kit with on hand, just in case.

By the time his second break came around, his face was flushed pink and he was out of breath. He slumped down on his designated bench, taking a few moments to catch his breath before quickly ridding his feet of the tight shoes. Levi hissed out a curse as he rubbed at a cramp in the arch of his foot, waiting for the stabbing pain to subside.

He watched the other dancers practice their parts on stage, scowling when one of them lost her balance several times and the instructor was silent. If Levi had even wobbled during a practice pirouette, he would have gotten an earful from the instructor.

With an irritable sigh, he turned his gaze the the rest of the audience, looking at the group of men with their eyes glued to the dancer twirling on stage, fiddling with their mustaches and beards. It was almost as if they were trying to look as creepy as possible. Levi continued to skim his eyes over the large group. The instructor had mentioned putting up more flyers around town and more ads in the paper. It must have been working, since the seats were filled with the largest group of patrons they had had for at least the past six months.

Slowly moving, his eyes continued to traveled over the rest of the crowd, stopping on a man who was sitting separate from the others. He was further back than the group, yet still close enough to the stage for his corn-silk hair to catch some of the shine of the bright lights. This man was different, he was young, at least ten years younger than the rest of the men. He stuck out like a sore thumb when compared to the others, as he actually looked somewhat respectable. And despite the distance between them, Levi could see the piercing blue of his eyes.

As if the man could feel Levi staring, he turned to look at him, electric blue clashing with stormy grey. The feeling of their connected gaze sent a spark down Levi's spine, quickly making him look away, feeling as if he had been caught red handed. Levi tried to put his focus back on the dancers, but he could feel the burn of the other's gaze on him, and it was more than a little unnerving. In an attempt to keep himself distracted, he grabbed his bag and rifled through it until he found a roll of bandage. He tried to push the image of the intense blue eyes out of his mind, forcing himself to focus on wrapping the bandage around his ankle to cover the back of his heel, which already was beginning to blister. After that, he moved to wrap his toes and the end of his feet in an attempt to place extra padding. The materials of Levi's shoes was rough and unforgiving against the soft skin on his feet, quickly rubbing spots raw and creating several blisters.

By the time the short man had finished binding his feet, his break was once again ended with a shout of his last name from the instructor. With a weary sigh, he carefully slipped his feet back into the shoes and grit his teeth through the flash of pain that followed as he stepped up onto the stage. The ongoing pattern of intense practice followed by too-short breaks continued until the sun had set and the view through the windows had turned dark.

Their rehearsals always ran until the sun had set. The only difference was that almost the entire time, Levi could feel the intense gaze of the light-haired man on him the entire time, even when he was on his break. Although it had been somewhat flattering in the first couple minutes, it didn't take long for the initial thrill of it to vanish and get replaced by annoyance. Each time Levi glanced in the direction of the audience and saw those sharp blue eyes on him, he felt irritation rise in his throat like bile.

 _What a creep._ Levi thought to himself, tempted to get up and give the man a piece of his mind whenever he went on break but always being called back to practice by his instructor. Levi didn't get another break for the rest of the evening, having to practice out his full routine for their upcoming show several times. 

When the instructor finally called it a night, Levi immediately turned and made his way back to his dressing room, legs shaking with exhaustion. Turning the knob, he used his shoulder to push the door open, wincing at the sound of the sharp scrape of the door against its frame as he stepped into the room. Due to him being the only male dancer, he got a separate dressing room from the others, which was more of a glorified storage closet, but he didn't mind. Levi was the type of man who typically preferred his solitude over his comfort. He sat down in his chair, the thin cushion far more comfortable than the hard wooden surface of the bench he had been sitting on all day, and was enough to make him want to sink into it, which was exactly what he did.

The short man slumped backwards against the chair as he kicked his feet out of the tight shoes, head tipping back until his gaze was straight on the ceiling with a relieved sigh. Closing his eyes, Levi spent a few minutes focusing on the feeling of the tense muscles along his back slowly unwinding - albeit minutely, but enough for him to gain a faint sense of relief. When he first started ballet, Levi had no idea just how hard it was. Now, he was almost always subjected to regular intervals of pain and discomfort from a collection of pulled muscles and chafed skin.

With a weary groan, the short male pushed himself out of the chair to stand and pulled the sweat soaked tunic off over his head. He set the article of clothing on the chair, working to peel off his tights and add them to the pile. Levi turned to the mirror, picking up a clean cloth from the pile and dipping it in the bucket of water and using it to scrub away the layers of makeup on his face. When he was finished he dropped the cloth in the small makeshift hamper, skin pink and warm from scrubbing so roughly. He skimmed his finger over the skin, wincing softly at the sting of the sensitive skin on his face that had been rubbed raw.

Levi hurried to change, pulling on a worn pair of loose pants, the dark fabric rough against his skin in contrast of the tights he had worn for the better part of the day. He pulled a clean tunic on, doing up the ties in the front before fixing the collar and tugging a simple brown vest on top of the light-coloured shirt. As tempting as the thought of walking home barefoot was to him, knowing the level of filth on the street was enough to quickly dissuade him from pursuing the temptation any further. With extra care, he tugged on some thick wool socks before slipping his newly padded feet into the over sized boots. The difference between the tight stifling clothes of his ballet outfit to the loose casual clothes he wore everyday was a pleasant change, the only thing that sounded better to him in that moment was something soft to lay down on. Gathering up his things, Levi tugged on his thick wool jacket and slipped out of the small room, continuing down the hall until he reached the back door and pushing it open before stepping into the frigid night.

The cold air made him shiver and shove his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunching in a vain attempt to retain more of his limited body heat. Levi made his way down the sidewalk, boots clicking on the hard cobblestone surface as he watched his breath come out as wispy fog. It was an unusually cold November, they might even get snow before the new year. Levi didn't have a preference for any type of weather, but he was already getting sick of the constant rain and mud.

Thankfully, the walk only took Levi ten minutes, which was good news for his aching feet. The building he lived in was small, the brick walls a sickly yellow, stained with years of exposure to the unrelenting rains. Almost every window visible from the street was coated in a thick layer of grime and an assortment of smudges, the only exception being the last window on the right of the second floor, marking out Levi's apartment. While his roommate often complained about his meticulous cleaning routine, that didn't stop him from cleaning out the apartment several times a week.

Levi stepped up to the entrance, pushing the heavy door open and slipping inside, letting it swing shut behind him with a thud that echoed through the sparsely decorated lobby. The smell of dust and damp wood in contrast with the crisp night air still in Levi's lungs made him cough into his elbow. The musty smell was even worse in the stairwell, making Levi hurry up the worn steps two at a time.

After ten seconds of Levi fiddling with the rusty lock, he finally managed to open the door to the apartment, being careful to close the door with a near silent click in case his friend was sleeping, but the dim light coming from the room at the end of the hall told him that was unlikely. Slipping out of his boots and hanging his coat on the crude metal hooks fixed into the wall, Levi listened in the darkness for a moment before slowly tiptoeing down the hall towards the door of his roommate's room.

Slowly pushing it open, he stuck his head in the doorway to see Furlan sitting at the desk in the corner of the room bathed in the amber light from the gas lantern sitting on the desk beside him. The light haired man was hunched over a pad of thick paper, brows pinched together as he watched each careful stroke of the charcoal over the paper. To say being an artist was difficult work was an understatement to Levi. From what he had seen, more than half of them failed before they even had a chance to start.

With a faint sigh and a quick glance to the covered windows, he stepped into the room, feet almost silent on the floor as Levi walked up behind the man at the desk. He reached out, carding his fingers through the sand coloured hair in an attempt to smooth down the strands sticking up in the back. A pair of tired blue eyes lifted to look up at him, lips curling into a faint smirk as his head leaned back against Levi's chest.

"There you are. You had me worried, I was about to march down to that theatre to get you myself." Furlan murmured softly, eyes half lidded with fatigue as he spoke. "How are you feeling?" The blond cast a glance to the window to ensure it was still covered before leaning up to brush his lips over the curve of Levi's jaw, watching the shorter man quickly straighten up in response.

"Fine. But my bloody feet are killing me," Levi breathed out, moving over to flop down onto the stiff mattress, the metal frame of the bed creaking loudly in protest. Furlan turned his chair to face him, abandoning his pencil and paper to focus on Levi.

"Want me to rub your feet for you?" Furlan asked with a tilt of his head, holding his hands up. Watching him for a moment, Levi shook his head and sat up. Furlan's behaviour had changed over the past few months, eager for actions that were beyond platonic. The two had been friends for years, since the first day Levi arrived in London. He had no place to stay, and Furlan had offered him a temporary place to stay in after a deep discussion over a few pints in a tidy pub. But after a few months, the two had become the closest of friends and Furlan arranged for Levi’s name to be added to the lease. But recently Furlan had been hinting at the possibility of more between them, and Levi had been trying his best to signal that he wasn’t interested. It wasn’t that he wasn’t into men, because he was. He just didn’t want either of them to get into any trouble with the law. After sitting on the bed for a few seconds, he forced himself to get up, stretching his arms over his head with a stifled yawn.

“I'm going to sleep, you should do the same,” Levi murmured as he stood and wandered over to the door, calling out a goodnight to Furlan as he left the room. He continued down to his own room, making sure the door had shut properly behind him.

While the idea of a hot bath was quite appealing to him, he was far too tired to get the water heated and didn't feel like asking Furlan for help. Instead, Levi undressed and set the clothes in a carefully folded pile on top of his worn out dresser. He climbed into the bed, wiggling under the heavy blankets and spending half a minute shifting around until he was comfortable. Closing his eyes, Levi tried his best to fall asleep, taking deep breaths and counting each second. But the moment he closed his eyes, all he saw was the icy blue of a familiar set of eyes staring intently back at him from the darkness behind his eyelids as he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consumption: old word for tuberculosis - often seen as beauty method as it caused the body to be very skinny (with prominent bones), pale skin, but with flushed cheeks


End file.
